


The Road Trip

by AthenaFangGranger26



Series: The Adventures of 'Lizabeth Page [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Family fun time!, Gen, Technically this is after TFW but before TBS, Yes I can abbreviate my own stories, gotta surprise for y'all, here's to the Johnlock fans, still stink at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:24:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaFangGranger26/pseuds/AthenaFangGranger26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizabeth is off to University at the end of the summer. There's no way she's going out without spending some quality time with her favorite 'uncle'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road Trip

"Road trip?" I cried, nearly floored by the idea.

I had been lounging on the sofa, relaxing and stealing Uncle Sherlock's favorite spot-which always made me smug. It was just a relaxing day, no case, no chasing criminals halfway across London, no dead people. I was enjoying it, minus the horrid boredom that was beginning to set in; until seconds ago.

"Yes, road trip. To a case." Sherlock sighed, seeing the mistake in exciting me.

"I call shotgun!" I grinned.

"You'll get the passenger seat anyhow. John isn't coming."

"Really?" I was surprised; John usually went anywhere with Sherlock and me-most likely to keep us out of chaotic trouble. "Why?"

"Gotta work some late shifts, couldn't get out of them." John supplied from the kitchen.

"Oh, okay. Won't be the same, but y'know I'm still excited. 'Cause, I mean a road trip? Never done one of those." I giggled, swinging my legs over the edge of the sofa. "I'll go pack!"

I took off downstairs to my room without another word and a gigantic skip in my step.

"You just made her a very happy girl." John smiled at his flatmate.

"I won't tell her it's not a case until we get there." Sherlock genuinely smiled at John.

"Try not to get into trouble." John warned.

"With 'Lizabeth, trouble's almost guaranteed."

John chuckled, thinking of the truth in that statement. He would have very much liked to join his flatmate on the trip, but Sherlock needed some time alone with his daughter before she took off for university. John could wait, Sherlock had a better bond with then teen girl-surprisingly.

They needed the leisure time, desperately.

____________________________________

"Shotgun!" I crowed, leaping into the passenger seat of the rental car.

"'Lizabeth, come say goodbye to your father and take care of your luggage. I told you, that seat is already yours." Sherlock sighed, shutting the door of 221B behind John.

I sighed, but climbed back out and raced over to John. I flung my arms around him in a hug and pecked him on the cheek. I still smiled at the fact that my heeled boots made me taller than the ex-army doctor.

"Bye, John. I'll try to stay out of trouble, and keep Sherly out of it too." I heard Sherlock snort behind me, but it made John smile.

"Take care. Text me when you switch drivers, I don't want Sherlock driving the whole way. Got it?" John mock-scolded.

"Aye-aye, sir." I pretended to salute my adopted dad.

"C'mon, Sherlock. Come say bye to John." I put my hands on my hips and glared at my other adopted father.

Sherlock glared right back, before glancing at John. "Goodbye, John."

"Nope!" I crowed.

I skipped over to Sherlock and yanked on his wrist until he finally stumbled over to John. He obediently stood where I placed him, but glared at me nonetheless.

"Now, give John a hug. You won't see him for two weeks. Anything could happen." I glared back.

Sherlock sighed and John chuckled before the two men embraced awkwardly. This made me grin even more, gaining enough confidence to say: "Now, kiss."

It was a joke and they both knew it was. And I was too busy giggling. So, with a shared look, the men brushed lips.

And my jaw hit the pavement.

'WHAT?'

Sherlock chuckled. "Quit gaping, 'Lizabeth. It's rude. Now, get in the car."

I blinked once, twice, three times. "I-" I was shocked, but-what? I mean, John was- I was only joking. "I-"

"Let's go, 'Lizabeth. Time's wasting." Sherlock prompted.

Somehow I managed to get in the car in my baffled state. Sherlock only gave me a smug look and pulled onto the road.

____________________________________

"Oohhh, ooh, ooh, ooh. You called me up again, last night, but ooohhh, ooh, ooh, ooh, this time I'm telling you. I'm telling you!"

I batted Sherlock's hand away from the radio dial. This was one of my favorite songs and I was belting out the lyrics at the top of my lungs. Laughing hysterically at Sherlock's dislike of the song at the same time was hindering my singing ability just a little bit.

"We are never, ever, ever getting back together. We-ee are never, ever, ever getting back together. You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me!"

After a few more bars, I followed the singer into a break in lyric to imitate her break up and speak the next few lines.

"So, he calls me up and he's like 'I still love you' and I'm just like 'this is exhausting, y'know we are never getting back together. Like 'ever'.'"

I belted out the chorus again, drumming my hands on the dash to the beat. I was giggling like mad when the song finally ended and I allowed Sherlock to lower the excessive volume of the radio.

I took a deep breath and leaned back in my seat, propping my bare feet on the dashboard. My giggles were just starting to recede when Sherlock spoke up.

"So, do you sing that to Sean?"

I winced a little at the thought of my so-called ex-boyfriend. He seemed interested in me when I saved his life from a sadistic, evil librarian. But now, he seemed only interested in kissing all the time. When I was seventeen and he was the first boy I'd ever loved, I was totally fine with that. Now? Not so much. We've been on and off ever since.

Right now, we were definitely off. Especially since that alley incident.

"Nah, see, the song implies that you hate the person. Sean's a pain, but I don't hate him. Just want him to bugger off for a while." I chuckled. "Wait, was Sherlock Holmes actually listening to a teeny pop song?" I was appalled.

"You have a wonderful voice." Sherlock dodged the question.

"Lies. I should reserve singing for the shower."

"I beg to differ." Sherlock smiled.

"Well, thanks I guess. Maybe I'll sing more often." I glanced sideways at Sherlock, still tapping my toes to the new tune on the radio.

"I'd like that."

I grinned wickedly. "Okay," then I quickly spun the volume dial again. "I'm at a payphone! Trying to call home!" I shrieked along with the female-sounding male singer.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and listened to me cackle along to the tune.

____________________________________

I hummed along with the new song on the radio, a soft tune with an overuse of the words alone, lost, and carry on. The radio was turned down low, to accommodate the man beside me.

The toe that was not on the gas pedal was tapping along to the beat of the soft song. My eyes didn't feel the slightest bit tired despite the growing darkness outside my window. The humming helped.

Despite his attempts to avoid it, I spotted Sherlock's tiredness about ten miles back, and demanded he pull over and switch responsibilities with me. He reluctantly agreed, and here we were.

Sherlock conked out about eight miles back.

I tore my eyes away from the road at little intervals to observe the sleeping man. The way he was curled into a ball, head resting against the window. I chuckled at the seatbelt cutting into his cheek-he had been too tired to care. His nose was creating little fog spots on the dark window every time he breathed.

He looked so peaceful and open. Not like the cold Sherlock Holmes the world got to see. Just an adorable man with unruly curls sleeping while his adopted daughter drove for him.

It was beautiful.

And I realized I loved Sherlock Holmes more than I loved any of my blood relatives.

Because he was just like me and he understood. He understood my chronic boredom, my love of riddles and puzzles, my need for adrenaline, and my dislike of people.

I'd come a long way from the degraded, dejected thin girl on the street. I still wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but I could talk to people who were nice to me. I could put up with people like Anderson and Donovan, and even most of the bullies at my old school.

And I'd like to think that was all because of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

Damn, I shouldn't be left alone to think.

I cranked the radio a little bit louder and sang along softly.

"If you're lost and alone. Or you're sinking like a stone. Carry on. May your past be the sound. Of your feet upon the ground. Carry on."

I glanced over at Sherlock to make sure I hadn't woken him. I was rewarded with a grunt and a small snore, but I noticed something on the man that wasn't there a few seconds ago.

A small smile was on Sherlock's lips. Just a sleepy, contented smile.

____________________________________

The next day, Sherlock watched 'Lizabeth snore in the passenger seat. She was tired by the time they had switched back, claiming she wasn't and could drive for miles as long as Sherlock got the rest he'd neglected for five days last week.

But Sherlock had convinced her to sleep, hinting at a huge surprise they would reach in less than a day's time.

Now, she was nestled in the passenger side seat, her dark waves of hair nearly covering her face. One of her hands was cradling her head in its palm, resting against the back of the seat. The other was curled in Sherlock's across the center console, as she had insisted.

Sherlock used their linked hands to brush away her hair and place it behind her ear. His eyes darted back to the road before checking on 'Lizabeth again.

She didn't look particularly calm. Her brow was creased and her eyes shut tight. Her mouth was turned down in a frown and her jaw was hard.

Then as Sherlock watched, a small singular tear slipped out of her eye and rolled down her cheek.

Sherlock knew this meant she was having one of her quiet nightmares. The ones that were filled with scenes of death, but silent as if someone had pressed mute on her memories. They never caused her enough distress to force her awake, but there were still nights that 'Lizabeth would pad up the stairs to sleep in Sherlock's bed or to sleep on the sofa while he played her lullaby quietly.

She was never afraid to show him her nightmares. That meant she trusted him and he knew he trusted her. He trusted her to take care of John, if anything were to happen to him. He knew he also trusted the young girl with his life, like he did John.

The young girl was not a friend though; she was family. And he loved her like a daughter and he spoke to her like a sister.

The two had a strange relationship, but he enjoyed every second of it. He truly did.

____________________________________

"'Lizabeth, wake up."

"Mmm," I moaned, pushing away the hand cupping my cheek.

"The surprise has arrived."

I cracked my eyes open to see a sight I thought I'd never see: Sherlock Holmes in a T-shirt. This puzzled me enough to open my eyes all the way. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and took in Sherlock entirely.

He was wearing a soft grey tee, yes. His curls were a little windblown, and the side of his face was shadowed by the sun coming in the window. But the excitement was there in his bright blue eyes. He looked genuinely happy to show whatever this was to me.

Perhaps it was the case's body.

But I only got a few moments of sight before Sherlock threw his navy scarf over my eyes and tied it behind my head.

"Aah! Sherlock, what the-?" I cried, trying to rip the thing off.

"Ah, ah." Sherlock scolded.

I heard a car door slam and knew I was alone. I sighed before the door flew open behind me. I felt Sherlock's hand on my shoulders, pulling me from the car.

I was instantly hit with sensations I hadn't felt before. I felt a hot sun beating down on my skin. I could smell a abundance of salt in the air. I could hear a soft bubbling sound. My toes met a mixture of soft, warm grass and a silky, grainy texture that was scorching to the touch.

"Any deductions?" Sherlock asked close to my ear.

"Absolutely none. I'm confused." I felt Sherlock's hands on my blindfold and the article of cloth fell away.

My vision was instantly bombarded by a bright glare. But slowly, the glare subsided and I found myself staring at a huge expanse of sand and beyond that an insanely large expanse of clear blue water. There were groups of people scattered about on the sand. But none looking like a crime scene.

Only one conclusion: this was a beach trip.

I spun to face Sherlock. "The beach?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Surprise." Sherlock smiled.

"God, I love you."

I flung my arms around Sherlock and squeezed tightly. I was surprised by the arms that reciprocated. Along with the kiss on my hair.

"I love you too, Lizzy."

I can't love my life here anymore than I did in that moment.


End file.
